Falling Into You
by Danigirl32
Summary: AU Liason fic Jason Morgan has finally found a situation that he can't get himself out of and facing the music will be the biggest challenge that he's ever encountered. And the blue eyed beauty with a fondness for troublemakers is certainly making things
1. Chapter 1

Hey. This is a new fic, in answer to a challenge over on the Canvas. I really liked the idea and decided to give it a try. This will be a short fic, around 8 to 10 chapters.

Here are the first two chapters, hope you like it.

History: Jason and Sonny own the coffee business, but are no longer in the mob. The history between Jason and Elizabeth never happened. They have only seen each other around Port Charles. Anything more, I will try to explain as the story goes on.

Summary: AU Liason fic. Jason Morgan has finally found a situation that he can't get himself out of and facing the music will be the biggest challenge that he's ever encountered. And the blue eyed beauty with a fondness for troublemakers is certainly making things interesting.

Rated: NC-17

Disclaimer: I don't own the GH characters, any originals are mine, as well as the story.

Feedback: Necessary for breathing ;)

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**Falling Into You**

**_Grace_**

First thing tomorrow morning he was firing his attorney.

The son of a bitch was worthless, so what was the point of being shafted on the six figure retainer if the lawyer couldn't get him out of a simple DUI charge.

Granted he was guilty.

He was man enough to admit to the fact that perhaps he shouldn't have tried to get himself home after he drank that fourth iDos Equis/i at Jake's and he certainly shouldn't have chased it with two shots of iSilver Patron/i but he had been in a shitty mood and Coleman had quietly informed him that the rooms upstairs were occupied for the night.

He could have called a cab, but he was perfectly capable of driving the few miles across town back to his penthouse without incident. He wasn't drunk. It took a lot more than a few beers and a couple lousy shots of tequila to get him intoxicated. Besides, if he left his Navigator in Jake's parking lot overnight, it was a guarantee that when he returned for it the next morning it would be shy a few crucial parts.

Unfortunately the law didn't see things his way.

Spending the night in lockup wasn't a hardship; he and the cells of the PCPD weren't strangers. He knew the drill and when he found himself laying across his cot in the dark it gave him the opportunity to reassess his life and just what had driven him to Jake's in the first place.

Divorce.

Receiving those final papers had been an unexpected knife in the chest. It burned. Perhaps more than seeing his wife in haviing sex with another man, or hearing the harsh words that poured from her lips as she stood with the sheets from their bed wrapped around her and berated him for his faults within their marriage.

He didn't appreciate her.

He didn't understand her.

He pushed her away and his negligence forced her to seek solace in another man's arms.

Perhaps in another life he would have been able to shield himself from that pain, but he had loved her and she had ripped his heart out and stomped on it. At least he had some pride left. When she sat across from him in the Armani suit and Prada shoes that _he_ bought, her dark hair pinned neatly away from her face with diamonds that _his_ money purchased gleaming in her ears, he had the satisfaction of seeing her face when she realized that the divorce settlement wasn't going to be what she had anticipated.

Let Patrick Drake pick up her bills from now on.

He pulled said Navigator that got him into this mess into the parking space and glanced around wearily. Any ordinary morning, after picking up his usual to-go large coffee from Kelly's, he would have headed to his office. Now he was sitting here at what he personally considered the gates of hell.

The dark blue v-neck sweater and trousers was miles from his usual jeans and t-shirts. The leather jacket was nonnegotiable, as were his usual shitkickers. The leather backpack sitting on the passenger seat was a recent purchase and seemed to mock him with everything it symbolized. Just how in the hell had he found himself in this mess?

Oh, yeah. His incompetent attorney.

He had been willing to plead guilty, pay a fine and move along. This was his first DUI, and he was a pretty decent member of Port Charles society now. Only it didn't work out that way. He would manage to get the one judge who remembered him from the days when he first woke from his accident. Thinking about the way he had been out of control during that first year was enough to make his stomach turn with distaste.

Yes, he had been arrested. A lot. What he wanted to know was if anyone else would have handled waking from a car accident with no memory of the life before, the people who claimed to love you and no frame of reference, any better. Yes, he had anger issues but he had learned to control his temper and channel that rage into a more productive outlet that didn't involve bar fights, motorcycles being driven indoors and nuisance arrests by a police detective that seemed out to get him.

The visits to the police station became a thing of the past. He was co-owner of a lucrative coffee import/export business with his best friend Sonny Corinthos. He had even been married to society princess Samantha McCall. His relationship with the Quartermaines was strained, but he had a close relationship with his sisters Emily and Skye. He was even managing to be civil to Alan and Monica for longer than five minutes at a time. If there were days he felt his temper straining at the leash, he climbed on his motorcycle. Or he went to _Down The Road_ an indulged himself in his one secret gratification.

But, no, Alexis Davis was the one person who remembered everything, including his brief stint within organized crime, and was happy to rub his previous offenses in his face.

When she pulled him and his attorney into her personal chambers that should have been his first clue that nothing was going to go his way, but he had been just blind enough to believe otherwise. When she opened the thick manila folder and began speaking in that condescending tone, his stomach had clenched with nausea and he kissed his easy sentence good bye.

The five thousand dollar fine wasn't the problem. It was the mandatory community service that made him want to reach across the large desk and strangle the woman. It seemed driving three hours out of Port Charles to the little hole in the wall nightclub wasn't enough to ensure his secret remained just that. Alexis knew, had somehow been in the audience on one of his late night visits and was perfectly happy to use this surreptitious information against him. And if he didn't want to spend quality time in prison, he had to swallow his pride and accept the sentence Alexis handed down with no problems.

Jason Morgan heard the bell ring loudly from the medium sized building before him, watched teenagers head toward the doors and just barely strangled back a growl of frustration.

Going to prison just might be better than teaching music to a class of high school seniors at a school for kids with behavioral issues.

Yeah, he was definitely firing his attorney.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The sounds of raised voices echoing through the halls seemed almost normal. If she closed her eyes, merely listening to the chatter of a group of girls passing by her office, or boys laughing at something the other had said, Elizabeth Webber could almost forget the fact that North Park High was the 'reject' high school. At least that's what her fiancé called it.

If you were rich, you attended Port Charles Preparatory Academy, with the other trust weathy kids. You wore a blue uniform with the conservative blazer and insignia on the front pocket. You were dropped off in a limo, or a Benz, or perhaps a Bentley. If a person looked close enough, he or she could see the shoes you wore were Italian and those sparkles in your ears truly were sapphires. And your middle name was trust fund.

If your parents actually had to work for a living, you attended PC High. You could wear the latest fashions if they were affordable. Most of the time you caught the bus for school, unless you were lucky enough to catch a ride with a friend. The hoops in your ears were most likely gold and Nikes were your sneaker of choice.

And if you were like the kids whose files sat on her desk, you attended North Park. Nine times out of ten, you had been arrested at some point. Possibly for stealing the latest pair of Air Force Ones that came on the market. You drove a beater, or decked your new Explorer with gleaming rims. You could belong to a gang, you could have a child at home, and you could be a disruptive presence in class causing you to get expelled. You preferred diamonds but gold would do in a heartbeat and your middle name was trouble.

She couldn't blame Lucky for his opinion of the students of North Park. He probably had arrested several of them at some point of his career with the Port Charles Police Department. And the sad truth was that too many of the kids were going to be exactly what their files claimed them to be. Trouble makers, juvenile delinquents, menaces to society.

It was her job to make sure that number was as small as she could make it.

When she took the position of senior guidance counselor, she knew that leaving her comfortable psychiatric practice would cause problems with her friends and family but it was a decision she would make again in a heartbeat. In the five years she had been at North Park, she could honestly say they were the most fulfilling years since she received her degree. Yes, there were frustrations and disappointments when she failed to reach a child and help him or her reach their potential. However there were successes to balance the scales. For every one she lost, there was one she helped.

Going back to her private practice, like Lucky kept hinting at, wasn't going to happen. It might make him feel better, but since when did she live her life for him? She didn't try to make him chose between being a cop and another career because it might be safer in the long run. The least he could do was afford her the same respect.

That's what she had shouted at him two nights ago during their usual Wednesday night dinner at Kelly's.

"I'll trade you Division 607 for anything else you have?"

Elizabeth looked to her doorway, and found her colleague Robin Scorpio in the doorway. The petite brunette looked stylish and efficient in her charcoal pinstriped suit and neat flats. Elizabeth resisted the urge to glance down at her own dark blue peasant skirt and long-sleeved scoop neck tee in comparison. The conservative clothes didn't make Robin a better counselor, it just made her different that was all.

Besides, beneath that suit and the perfect hairstyle, Robin was a genuinely nice woman, and a great friend, proven by the crooked grin she wore now.

"Problems already? School's only been in session for two months, what on earth could they have done this soon?"

"Hmm, the Alcazar twins gave Principal Lansing four flat tires. Dillon Quartermaine stole a camera from the Radio/Television department and tried to make a documentary on the food in the cafeteria. He called it _'Is it meat or isn't it?'_" Neither of them could hold back the snicker of laughter at the antics of Dillon Quartermaine. They were legendary here at North Park.

"Maxie Jones lost another job and is refusing to get another although she knows that her parents have said they were going to force her to move out if she didn't start accepting responsibility for herself and her son Anthony." Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the typical antics of the well known blonde. The police commissioner's daughter was a troublemaker and even the birth of her son six months ago didn't serve as a wake up call for the young woman.

"You would think she could keep a job at Kelly's considering Bobbie was generous enough to give her a third chance," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Then there's Lulu and Brooklyn," Robin paused dramatically and this time Elizabeth groaned, terribly familiar with the antics of her fiancé's littler sister and her partner in crime. "Those five are enough, don't you think?"

There were four senior divisions at North Park, each consisting of ten to twelve students each. She and Robin had two a piece to go along with their two junior divisions. Lainey Winters handled all of the sophomore classes and Alexander Smith was responsible for the freshmen. The budget was tight for employing the four counselors but they were deemed necessary by the school board. At least they weren't just dumping the kids here at North Park and passing them through high school without attempting to help them.

Considering that she was familiar with the families of most of Robin's kids, she relented, "Fine, I'll trade you 604. I haven't had the opportunity to get to know most of them, so that will work well in their favor." What she didn't tell Robin was that four of them had been in the juvenile detention facility and the other six were truancy problems. They would probably respond better to Robin's nonsense attitude better anyway.

"Thanks Liz," Robin smiled and went to turn away, but paused, her eyes lighting with mischief, "Hey, did you hear that we have a new music teacher?"

She lifted a perfectly arched brow, "Really?" Considering that the music program had been sacrificed for budget cuts, a new teacher was a surprise.

"Umm, hmm," Robin stepped back inside her office, "It seems Lansing has agreed to continue the music program for the seniors and he managed to attain free labor in the process." At her frown Robin laughed, "His wife, Judge Davis has forced the poor schmuck to work off his community service here at North Park. I believe you know him, Jason Morgan."

Everyone had at least heard of the lost Quartermaine son whose life had been drastically altered when he was in a car crash with his drunken brother AJ. She had only seen him around Port Charles, usually in Kelly's or on the docks, but they had never spoken to each other.

Tall, muscular and handsome, the man naturally drew the feminine gaze. Especially those intense eyes. A startling shade of blue, Elizabeth was instantly reminded of a young Paul Newman in _Cat on A Hot Tin Roof_.

More artic than indolent, and she certainly couldn't see Jason Morgan letting some woman attempt to manipulate him. Instead, he would cut her out of his life with a ruthless sweep and nurse his wounds in private so the world couldn't see. She would be lying if she didn't admit the man fascinated her on a basic and instinctive level but it made her feel guilty. She should be concentrating on Lucky and not thinking about a stranger with eyes that made her stomach clench with nerves.

It didn't seem right that the man was being forced to work at North Park. "Why was he arrested?"

"I heard it was a DUI," Robin pursed her lips, "You think he would have learned his lesson." Then she shook her head, "I had no idea that the man knew anything about music, last I heard he owned a coffee business with Sonny Corinthos."

Everyone knew that Sonny Corinthos had supposed ties to the mob, though they weren't proven. If Jason Morgan was connected to organized crime, the last place he should be was here at North Park around impressionable teenagers who were already having troubles. "What were they thinking?"

"Probably that the Quartermaines were harassing the school board again. The 'first family' of Port Charles probably can't accept that not one but two of their teenagers have been kicked out of both high schools here, not to mention the other private schools they were expelled from. Having to attend North Park is probably a blight on the Quartermaine honor or something."

Elizabeth could sympathize. Her own parents had passed her off to her Grandmother Audrey when they decided that she was too difficult a teenager to deal with. It was a shame that some kids couldn't choose their families.

"Don't worry," Robin headed toward the door again, "You'll most likely be meeting Jason Morgan soon enough."

"And why is that?"

"Your new seniors are all signed up for his class. They were all claiming it an easy A."

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**_Just Breathe_**

He was trapped within a hell of his own making and it was populated with mini mes that were determined to make him suffer for every angry act he inflicted on his parents.

And it was only the first day.

Jason looked down at the calendar that set on top of the desk of the previous music teacher and realized he had seven more months of purgatory to endure before the madness ended. The day started better than he had hoped. After a quick search and metal scan by a tired looking security guard, he headed to the main office.

Next came a meeting with Principal Ric Lansing, who seemed to be have taken on the more annoying character traits of his wife Alexis, to welcome him to the school. Jason had felt more welcome at his last meeting with the five families when he and Sonny informed them of their intentions to get out of the business.

Jason kept his responses brief and to the point. He wasn't here to make friends with the man. He was here to serve out his sentence so that his life could go back to normal.

He would have two music classes, morning and afternoon that he had to cover. For one moment he wanted to ask if the school was so hard up for teachers that they were haunting the city jails for them now but figured that wouldn't be in his best interests since he would be forced to endure this man for rest of the year. He would be required to attend teacher and administrative meetings every Wednesday morning before school started and cover at least one period of lunch duty.

It was a good thing the warehouse could run without him considering he would be spending the majority of his day here. It made more sense to try to get his work done here and head over to the docks afterwards to make sure that everything was running smoothly in his absence. Sonny was on the island with Carly and the boys running the casino down there but when he heard about the sentence Alexis handed down Jason could have sworn that he heard the man's laughter in the room with him.

The school administrative assistant, a polite woman named Colleen who looked like any startling movement would cause her to burst into tears, gave him a quick tour of the school. As Jason walked through the depressing halls, he found himself happy that he couldn't remember high school. If his years were spent in a building like this those memories were best forgotten.

It looked like a building that time forgot. The teachers that he caught glimpses of looked just as tired and harried as the security guard at the front door. The kids ran the gamut of freakishly weird to degenerate thug wanna be. Then there were the few that actually looked dangerous. That's when he came to the conclusion that North Park wasn't the typical high school and really wanted to go back to the courthouse and wring Alexis Davis' neck.

He passed one room on his way down a corridor to the music room and paused for a moment at the mural painted on the wall. He couldn't really make out the images, since his accident he had a problem with stuff like that but nonetheless the vivid colors seemed to jump out at him. It was like a burst of sunlight in the midst of a storm. He didn't know how long he stared at it, but when he heard Colleen's tentative voice calling his name, he blinked, slowly turning his head feeling as if he had been pulled from a deep trance.

Even now as he waited for his second class of the day to begin, his mind drifted back to it. Colleen had told him that the senior guidance counselor, Dr. Webber, painted it. As she spoke there had been a soft smile on her face and the woman didn't look like a deer in headlights for once. That told him more than anything that the mural was amazing even if he couldn't really _see_ it.

Shaking his head, he stood from the uncomfortable chair and grabbed the stack of music theory books from the table to head over to the classroom. This morning's class had been just as bad as he had expected. The kids looked like they were auditioning for roles as Jason Morgan, enforcer, but when he walked into the room most had straightened sheepishly in their seats. Definitely recognizing him from his previous role in the organization.

The whispers started first, then gradually faded away until the silence was deafening. Good in one sense. He had no idea what he was doing and they were too nervous to realize it. So he started the way he had been taught. Like he was a two year old.

After the accident, in the midst of his anger and confusion, he had struggled to find some way to control his volatile emotions. He didn't need to hear the continued anguish of the Quartermaines to know that his behavior wasn't normal. Despite the brain damage, he wasn't stupid. He had been out on his newly purchased motorcycle when he heard the music coming out of the little blues club. It had been like taking a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

The graceful notes poured over him, soothed him, surrounded him in its comforting embrace and cleared his head of the rage that had been rushing through him. After parking his bike, he strode inside the club, surprised to see Luke Spencer behind the bar. The man gave him the usual cocky grin and a nod of greeting that Jason returned. He ordered a bottle of Dos Equis and sat down at a table close to the front and was mesmerized by the old man at the piano.

Lenny Grier had been playing the piano for more than fifty years and despite the arthritis in his hands, his nimble fingers still could bring forth music beautiful enough to make angels sigh. Lenny had looked at him with blue eyes faded with time and told Jason that he had found a kindred spirit that night. Lenny took hands that were quickly becoming accustomed to holding a gun and gave them grace. His patience cut through Jason's frustration and his friendship helped Jason find a measure of peace that had been missing from his life.

It wasn't enough to learn how to play the piano. He had to learn the music as well.

"You don't just open a book and look at the pictures now do you?" Lenny's gruff voice had bit out that late evening when Jason had finally worked through his nerves and asked Lenny to show him how to play. "At some point, you have to read the damned story."

He couldn't see these kids feeling the same about music as he did, so he gave them the basics. After introducing himself, he passed out the thin blue and gold theory books, an exact copy of the one Lenny had him go out and buy. They all looked at the manuals like they were the plague and Jason knew if he let the books out of his sight they would probably end up in the trash.

So he pinned the class with the same expression he had used to interrogate enemies of Sonny's and told them in the coldest voice he could manage that the books would be returned after class to his desk. At that point the little delinquents realized that this wasn't going to be as easy as they might have expected. Afterwards the class was silent but toward the end he caught a few that seemed interested in what he was explaining.

The sounds of raised voices echoed in the small hallway that led to the music hall and Jason released another breath as he realized his next class was about to start. The muffled tone of a bell proved him right. He waited a moment, watching as kids filed into the hall, the second bell rang and he headed to his class.

Forty-five more minutes and he could escape.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Okay Maxie, perhaps if you apologize to Bobbie she might be willing to give you your job back." Elizabeth felt her smile beginning to strain at the edges.

The petulant young woman sitting across from her was beginning to get on her nerves. That actually said a lot about Maxie Jones. Elizabeth prided herself on her patience. She dealt with gang members and thieves with more sense than this girl.

The file under her folded hands told the story of a spoiled, impudent brat who was inflicting herself on a helpless child. Despite having grown up in a loving family, Maxie seemed determined to trash her life. Everything that happened was always someone else's fault. It was her boyfriend Kyle's fault that she got pregnant because he was supposed to be responsible for the condoms.

It was PC High's fault that she was transferred here to North Park because she got in a fight with one of the teachers who complained that she was using the computer lab inappropriately.

It was her parents' fault that she had to get a job to help support her child. It was the employers' fault that she was fired from her three previous jobs for tardiness and/or stealing.

It was Bobbie's fault that she was actually expected to work at Kelly's and not just sit around with the kids after school eating free food. Or worse breaking dishes and stealing from the cash register.

It had taken all of her mediator skills to convince Bobbie to give Maxie a second chance. The only reason she agreed was because Felicia was one of her closest friends and she felt sorry for Maxie's son.

"I don't see why I should be the one to apologize. I'm not the one who embarrassed Bobbie in front of all of her friends," Maxie pouted and folded her arms over her chest. Dressed in the normal teenage outfit of jeans and a sweater that her parents had probably paid for, Maxie simply refused to take responsibly for herself or her actions. "It's not like I need that job anyway."

She needed the job if she wanted to remain in her parents house with built in babysitters while she was at work and school, free rent, food and clothes for both herself and her child but Elizabeth didn't think she should point that out. It was best not to shock the patients with information they weren't' ready to process.

The ten minute get to know you session had quickly run into twenty minutes of agony. If Maxie had been one of her patients, she would have been pulling her hair out by now as she agonized over the length of sessions she would have with the young woman before a breakthrough was made. As it stood, she was tempted to call Maxie's parents and offer private counseling.

"The job is to help care for your son Maxie," she took a calming breath and a sip from the water bottle sitting on top of her desk. "And Bobbie is a friend of your mother's; I believe she deserves one for that reason alone."

Judging from the huff of breath Maxie released, she disagreed and this conversation was beginning to feel pointless. "Look, the extra pocket money was good to have right?" Maybe playing to the girl's selfishness would work. "A few hours of work after school and on Saturday isn't that bad a price to pay to be able to go to the mall."

"Mom and Dad always buy me what I need," she sneered but seemed to consider her words, "But it is nice not to have to ask for money for when me and Kyle go out. I guess working at Kelly's wasn't so bad."

"Great," Elizabeth answered brightly, cutting off any further thought before the woman could start thinking again, "After school, you'll head over to Kelly's to work things out with Bobbie."

She grabbed her keys, stood from her desk, grabbing pile of papers. She took Maxie's arm and 'helped' her to her feet, pulling her toward the door. She wanted to pass out the information sheets to her newly aquired students so that they could come in for their scheduled appointments throughout the day tomorrow. "Now, you're late for your next class, so I'll walk you over. You have music this period right?"

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"A staff consists of five lines and four spaces, each one specifying a particular note within the musical scale but dependent upon the clef within the key signature."

Jason raised a brow at the answer from the smart mouthed girl and didn't bother to hide a smirk of his own. Brooklyn Ashton was one of his Quartermaine relatives and she made no secret that she comprehended music theory quite well. In fact, out of the ten seniors in this afternoon class, there were only two that didn't have any musical background at all.

After walking in class, it had taken a moment to work through the fact that he had seen most of these kids around Port Charles or in Kelly's at some point. He never would have thought that they would be considered trouble makers, but after fifteen minutes in their company he quickly understood just how they had ended up here at North Park.

Diego and Sage Alcazar were pransters. He would have thought Lorenzo's kids would be better behaved. Being in the organization isolated kids, he knew that from Michael and Morgan but these twins were ridiculous.

Then he had the disturbing thought, was this how the boys would behave when they reached this age? With Carly as a mother, they already had her impetuousness in their blood. It was a good thing Leticia was such a good nanny, they would need the stabilizing influence.

Lulu Spencer was a Spencer, which was all he needed to know to keep him on guard with her. Brooklyn and Dillon seemed to be good kids, as did Lucas Jones, the rest he would eventually get to know. It seemed he had been saddled with the delinquents in the morning and the troublemakers in the afternoon. At least the troublemakers didn't seem afraid of him.

He set the book he was holding on his desk and sat on its edge looking out at the young faces. Had he ever been this young? This disillusioned?

Jason pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose, "And who can identify the denotations of each?" As expected no hand raised, but judging from the looks on their faces, he could tell which ones knew the answers and which didn't.

Rather than give the smart asses the satisfaction he rose to the chalk board and drew a staff. Then he glanced down at the attendance list and picked one of the kids who weren't smirking, "Jamie?"

The young girl looked around nervously, and began paging through her theory book. Brooklyn and Sage both rolled their eyes, their sarcastic expressions reminding him of Carly. Jamie finally came upon the answer and tentatively spoke up, "Um, the lines are F-A-C-E and the spaces are E-G-B-D-F."

"That's not true," Sage shot out.

"It's true," Jason caught her eye with a gaze that she quickly understood meant to shut up. "Of the treble clef," he finished, drawing in the large clef then adding the letters on each corresponding space. "With the bass clef the denotations change."

Having been praised over Sage, Jamie seemed more interested in participating. "Um, those are," she paused, biting her lip as she scanned the page, "A-C-E-G for the lines and G-B-D-F-A for the spaces."

"That's right," Jason nodded as he drew another staff and added the notations. "With any music, you must know these notes as they make up all the scales."

"When are we going to play the piano?" That question came from Sage, "This stuff is boring, and I learned it in fourth grade. I thought music class meant we would actually be playing music."

"We'll move on to actual playing when I'm satisfied that everyone knows the basics of theory Miss Alcazar," he set the chalk down on the edge and looked directly at her. Her bravado gradually drained from her smug face as she seemed to realize that he wasn't going to tolerate her attitude.

"Most of you seem to know this information already, but you have other classmates who don't. A few weeks of review won't hurt any of you. Perhaps you might learn something new, or perhaps you could try something a little different and actually support the other students who need the help instead of ridiculing them."

He saw the sarcastic reply in her eyes but before she could voice it, the door to the music hall swung open. Years of perfecting a facade that gave away no emotion was the only thing that saved him from making a complete fool of himself. Along with a young teenaged blonde girl who wore a put upon expression a siren walked into the room.

The voices of the teenagers seemed to fall away, like he was speeding through a tunnel and the end was the woman before him.

The only thought he could wrap his mind around was to wonder if her skin was a soft as it seemed.

She was the complete antithesis of Sam. Yes they were both petite, with dark hair but that was where the comparison ended. This woman was slim, almost lithe in that crazy multicolored skirt that covered all of her legs. The fitted top emphasized firm high perched breasts, a slim waist that he was certain his hands could span and a flare of agilely curved hips.

Her face, gamine and feminine, hinted at mischief and a passion that burned bright in her blue eyes and lingered around her temptingly full lips. Dark hair that he could almost feel fisted in his hand curled riotously about her shoulders and called to the most primitive blood sending it rushing through his veins.

A siren. A houri. And for the first time since his marriage ended, he wanted. Damn, he wanted.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," her voice was like the very silk of her skin, soft with just a rasp of wonder. She blinked several times, adjusting the stack of papers in her arms drawing his gaze to the sweet glimpse of cleavage, her slender hands emphasized by the turquoise bracelets on her wrist. "I, I was just dropping off one of your students."

"Thank you," he managed, very aware of the barely checked interest in his tone.

She crossed to him, extending a hand, "I'm Dr. Elizabeth Webber, one of the senior guidance counselors here at North Park."

He looked at her hand for a moment, before placing his own against it, instantly noting how large his was in comparison. Yet within her grasp was a layer of strength that was at odds with the femininity. If she worked here at North Park, then it was obvious that she was more than some fragile flower like his ex-wife.

"Jason Morgan."

"Our new music teacher, I know. You're a welcome addition to North Park. The music program has been missed. It's a shame that only the seniors will benefit," a soft radiant smile touched her lips, then she seemed to collect herself, and held the small stack of papers out to him. "I was wondering if you might pass these out to your class at the end of the period. It would be a great help."

"No problem." He felt his own answering smile touch his lips before he swallowed and turned away to set the papers on his desk.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your class," she flashed another smile of thanks and began backing away. Just before she closed the door behind her she looked at him again, her skin flush with heat, "It was nice meeting you."

It wasn't until he heard Dillon Quartermaine say, "Now somebody is hot for Dr. Webber," that Jason realized he had been staring at her ass as she left the room.


	2. Be Still My Beating Heart

Hey! Update. Just one chapter this time. Have fun Thanks for the great reviews!!

A/N: Manipulating a little GH history here. Jason was never involved with Robin but he did take care of Michael for the year. Explantions about that, and how he met Sonny, will come later within the story.

Rated: M  
Disclaimer: I don't own the GH characters, any originals are mine as well as the story.

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**_Falling Into You_**

****

****

**_Be Still My Beating Heart_**

As she approached the open doors of Luke's, the music spilling free, smooth jazzy, was different from the normal blues that typically played here. The steady rhythm of a snare drum and hi-hat, a deep bass guitar and the achy melody of a piano accompanied a feminine alto in a combination that sent shivers down her spine. It took a moment before she recognized the song, and when she did, it made her drag in a shaky breath. Drowning in a sea of emotion that she couldn't understand.

Chilled she wrapped the navy pea coat tighter around her and stepped inside the darkened club, noting despite the music there were very few patrons inside. It was after one and late for her to be out but she had been back at her loft painting for hours and the adrenaline rush was still pulsing through her veins. The work, a study of the Port Charles harbor during it's busiest time of day, was almost complete but she got to the point where her muse was finished speaking to her and was forced to call it a night.

Hungry, she rinsed the paint from her hands and headed to the kitchen when the craving for fish and chips kicked in accompanied by the desire for a nice pint. A left over from the vacation in County Cork, Ireland that she and Robin had taken after completing a grueling residency. One of many places she had always dreamed of visiting. She had those plans written down in her journal.

Walking the green lands of Ireland. Swimming the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. The running of the bulls in Spain. Carnival in Brazil. Spring in Marseille. And crossing the canals of Venice in a gondola with the man she loved. The last, the best dream of all. Only she was beginning to worry if the last would come true.

Crossing to the bar, Elizabeth took a place toward the end where she could observe. The curvy redhead on stage continued to seduce the audience with her song.

"Hey darlin', what are you doing out so late? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

Elizabeth smiled up at the teasing voice that always made her feel welcome. "It hasn't been so long that you don't remember that there is no school on Saturday, Luke." The reprobate reached over and tenderly nudged her chin with a knuckle. Luke Spencer had welcomed her into his family with more genuine affection than her own father had ever shown her. Sometimes she wondered if she wasn't with Lucky for his family.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but where is that disappointment I call a son," he smiled and leaned on the bar, giving her a moment and allowing the other bartender to deal with the customers.

Luke and Lucky clashed on the best days. Lucky unable to accept the life his father led and his frequent absences from his children's lives and Luke's disgust with the fact that Lucky had become a cop and the sanctimonious attitude that even grated on her nerves sometimes made the relationship between father and son a pale imitation of what it used to be.

She could see both sides. Luke, admittedly, wasn't the best of fathers. Without Laura he just floundered in the raising of Lulu, given by her behavior and attendance of North Park but no one could ever doubt that he didn't love his children. Unlike a certain father she no longer claimed.

Lucky knew the man his father was. Growing up on the run with Luke and Laura Spencer had given Lucky all of his street smarts and adventures that most sons would love to have shared with his parents. Lucky seemed to eschew the love Luke had for them all because his father didn't behave the way Lucky felt he should. While Elizabeth thought he should be grateful that he had a father that even gave a damn about him.

"Lucky's working," she answered simply and chuckled at the expected roll of Luke's eyes and his sneer.

"Did I teach the boy nothing? Letting a beautiful woman go out to disreputable clubs alone in the middle of the night?"

"It's your club," she reminded him and that sneer turned into a full fledged Luke Spencer grin of mischief.

"Exactly," he answered with a lift of his brows and the ripple of mirth turned into peal of laughter.

Normally, she would have called Lucky but he was on duty tonight, some stake out at the docks. When she really thought about it, she wanted the time alone. He was pushing for her to set a date for their wedding and she was still hedging. Knowing she loved Lucky and taking that next big step were two different things.

When he had asked, setting the perfect romantic atmosphere at the gazebo in the park where they had walked the night of their first date, she had been excited and said yes. Lucky painted pictures of a wonderful life together full of laughter and love. Children. The family she had always longed for when she was growing up with disinterested parents and older siblings who always made her feel inadequate and it had been easy to surrender to the tempting images. Then time passed and the reality of being engaged, contemplating marriage set in and now she wasn't so sure.

So perhaps it was for the best that Lucky was so busy lately with this latest case he was working on. It gave her the opportunity to think about what she was doing. One thing was certain, this was the best painting she had done in months. There must be something to that tortured artist crap that she had sneered at during college.

"So what can I get you? And don't tell me you want one of those disgusting pints."

"Then I'll just tell Leo down on the other end," her mouth quirked with pleasure. She caught the other bartender's eye and gave him a flirtatious wiggle of her fingers in greeting. A large smile spread across his kind face before he winked in return. Luke glared at Leo over his shoulder and Elizabeth watched him quickly turn away but not before she saw his chest shake with laughter.

Groaning, Luke rolled his eyes, "Children, I swear, always such a disappointment. What happened to a nice single malt to take the chill off? This is a blues joint. Etta James, Diddley, Redbone. Not some pub in Ireland."

"But you always draw me the best Guinness darlin'," she gave him back the quick retort and there was a lightning of amusement between his lashes. "Now be a good lad and give me a pint and an order of fish and chips from the back."

This time he didn't even bother to restrain himself, he threw back his head and let out a burst of laughter that all could hear over the music from the stage. Finished, he caught her cheeks between both his hands and smiled with admiration, "Cowboy has no idea what he has in you does he?" He released her and shouted over to Leo, "You know what the girl wants, now go on in back and tell Claude to bring her a damned order of fish that she always wants."

Leo finished opening the long neck and set it and a napkin on the waitress' circular tray then wiped his hands on the towel at his waist before heading to the kitchen to put in her order. Elizabeth watched as Luke began filling the tall glass with the dark stout. "So you've been painting tonight?"

She looked down at the splatters of paint covering her bright orange low v sweater and the low rise jeans and lifted a brow, "I guess you can tell?" She hadn't even thought about how she looked, just slipped into her coat and the platform sneakers sitting by the door, grabbed her purse and left. The grumbling in her stomach had been most important.

"Well, the dark blue paint smeared on your cheek was my first clue. Then I saw the flecks of red in your hair."

"Uhh," released a tortured groan, well at least her hands were clean and she wouldn't poison herself while eating. She flushed with embarrassment and dropped her forehead onto her arms to hide the wash of heat on her face. "Just kill me now."

"Still beautiful darlin' you don't have to worry about that," he set the finished draft on the bar. "Now there's your pint. Your food will be out in a minute, so just listen to the music and forget about the fact that you look like you've been playing with a two year old."

Tilting her head to the side, she opened one eye to glare at him, which only made him laugh in return. "And since when do you allow Jazz in your sacred blues joint?"

"Only after midnight," he answered, "And besides, Jason wouldn't be caught dead playing in here unless the place is practically empty."

"Jason?"

She caught the echoing tones of the piano, haunting, alluring, matching the plaintive feminine voice and glanced over to the stage. Sure enough, near the back and in the shadows she caught the now familiar profile of Jason Morgan. The sight should have looked wrong somehow. A large man like Jason, so seemingly self contained, reserved, almost cold if not for the occasional warmth she glimpsed in those azure eyes, playing a piano. But it didn't.

For an entire week, she had tried not to watch him in the halls of North Park. Wednesday, he was introduced to the faculty during the weekly meeting and he nodded once, letting Principal Lansing inform everyone of his temporary substitute status. Lansing couldn't have been more disdainful in his remarks if he had come right out and said that the only reason Jason was there was because of his wife and Jason's DUI charge.

He wasn't rude, but neither did he welcome conversation and he certainly didn't reveal anything more about himself than the facts they all knew. He was the Quartermaine who didn't claim his family after his tragic accident. He owned a coffee business with Sonny Corinthos. Given the ruggedness and the vital power the emanated from his tempting form, and the aura of the forbidden that surrounded him, the rumors of mob involvement were certainly understandable.

Tonight he wasn't dressed in the simple but rich clothes he wore to North Park. Gone were the dark elegant sweaters and perfectly tailored pants, and in their place was the Jason Morgan that she remembered seeing around Port Charles on occasion.

Navy blue v-neck tee. Dark jeans. Taboo.

"Imagine my surprise when Lulu tells me that her new music teacher is none other than the secretive and occasional piano player Jason Morgan." Luke continued. "He normally plays at _Down The Road_ but Lenny wasn't feeling well, arthritis getting to him tonight and Jason agreed to fill in for his midnight set. Guess he figured his secret was out anyway, so there was no need to hide. What I can't imagine is Jason Morgan teaching a room full of juvenile delinquents." He snorted with glee.

"I don't see why not," Elizabeth felt compelled to defend. From the whispers she had overheard from her Seniors, Jason Morgan was a pretty good teacher.

Naturally patient with the kids who didn't understand, he didn't talk down to them like most of the adults they were used to but there was a line they all knew not to cross. Where most authority figures in their lives commanded respect but gave them none, she had learned that the Seniors who took music gave Jason that respect because he had offered it in return. A sad lack in most of their lives.

"And don't call them juvenile delinquents, Luke, they have enough to deal with. Besides, did you forget that Lulu attends North Park?"

"Like I said, juvenile delinquents," he chuckled making her shake her head. "I know my kid Elizabeth. She might have Laura's angel face, but Lesley Lu is a Spencer through and through."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her pint, glancing stealthily over at Jason again. His handsome face was somber, but she could sense a certain contentment within him. It lingered around his sensuous mouth, in the imperceptible movement of his head as he brought forth the music that had touched something deep within her and made it pulsate with life.

Cold. Brain damaged. Emotionless. She knew the rumors and saw the idiocy in them. If anyone could see Jason Morgan now and the depthless peace on his face, they would know that there were aspects to this man that anyone would be fortunate to be given a glimpse of. Her lips parted, drawing a much needed breath into her lungs as her eyes lingered on his arms, the sinewy twist of muscle that stretched and pulled under the skilled motion of his fingers.

"I'm going to get a table, can you have my order brought over?" she murmured, picking up her drink and sliding from her stool. She turned away, missing the curious expression that crossed Luke's face and gathered her coat and purse, heading for a spot close to the stage.

Somehow she slid into the chair, setting the glass down without spilling it's contents because her eyes were fixated on the man, absorbed in the music. The last of the song trailed off and the few people in the audience signaled their appreciation with eager applause. She watched as Jason lifted a bottle from a chair sitting next to him, took a long pull, her throat drying at each swallow and wet her lips.

Awareness burned in her stomach as he licked the moisture from his mouth. He said something to one of the brass players, then turned in her direction. Caught staring, their eyes locked for an intense moment. His chest expanded, a flare of nostrils, signaled a deeply drawn breath and her heart lurched madly.

It was a purely sensual experience that should have made her feel guilty. She loved Lucky, they were engaged to be married, and in all the dates, all the intimate moments they shared, never had she experienced such a swift and violent excitement just by looking at him. Her breathing erratic, her body heavy and warm, she watched him rise fluidly from his seat. Their eyes never broke as he approached, his predatory gait sent heat to pool between her legs.

"Hey." The simple word should not have made her so nervous.

"Hi," she finally tore her eyes away, her hand shaking as she reached for her drink, needing some kind of prop to disguise her response to his presence. "You sounded great."

Blue eyes studied her, seductively roving from her face to the creamy expanse of her neck and breasts, then back to her eyes before answering, "Thank you." She wondered what thoughts went through his mind as he looked at her. If he was as attracted as she was. If his hands tingled with the need to touch like hers did.

"Would you like to sit?" she offered. Instead of answering he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table. "Um, Luke told me that you were covering for Lenny tonight. That his arthritis was bothering him and that's why you're playing. Not that it's not okay that you're playing because you sounded great, but Luke mentioned that you usually play at _Down The Road_. I guess it's a way of keeping your private life private. Not that there's anything wrong with you playing, but you just seem like the kind of person who doesn't like a lot of people in your business."

She could hear herself rambling, feel the blush rushing red across her face, but her mouth didn't seem to know how to shut up. Something flickered across his face, and boy did she hope it wasn't amusement, then his mouth curved with unmistakable tenderness.

"Do you normally talk that fast or am I making you nervous?"

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she lifted her glass and pretended a nonchalance she didn't feel, "You wish."

"I'm just saying," he lifted a shoulder, refusing to drop the subject of her embarrassment, "You were on a roll there."

"And a gentleman wouldn't have mentioned it."

His expression stilled, something dark and enigmatic filling his eyes, "But then, I've never claimed to be one." The tense silence stretched and she wondered if he could hear her heart slamming against her ribs because it certainly roared in her own ears. "It's a little late for you to be out alone," he finally said and the words were enough to take some of the edge off.

"If one more man tells me it's too late for me to be out, I swear," she shook her head in growing annoyance, "I'm not a child, nor am I some hapless female who needs a man to protect her at all times." Nor did she want him to see her that way, though she couldn't quite figure out why.

"I didn't say that," he frowned briefly, then glanced down at his watch, "It's just after one and you're sitting here alone."

"Who says I'm alone?" she lifted a questioning brow, and Jason, the jerk, glanced around as if looking for someone to join her. "Fine, I'm here alone. Not that I have to explain myself to you," she began.

"Of course you don't," he immediately agreed.

"But I was painting tonight and when I finished I was feeling restless and hungry. So I came to Luke's because I know he stays open late and would be willing to fix me a meal," she explained, "Not that it's really all that late. It's Friday night, most people are usually out with friends or on dates on Friday nights."

"So why aren't you?" he weighed her with an inexplicable look.

"Why aren't I what?"

"Out on a date or with Friends. Luke's isn't exactly the kind of place I pictured you in." he relaxed back in his chair and she was keenly aware of his scrutiny.

"And why not, I don't look like a blues girl to you? Because that would be kind of insulting considering that you don't know me very well."

"You're right," he allowed, "So are you a blues girl?"

"Not really," she smiled, "But I love Luke's place, and I've learned to appreciate it, well some of it anyway. I still haven't learned to like the _'my man left me, my dog left me, I lost my job and I'm a broke down rambling soul'_ blues that Luke loves."

Jason grimaced at her off key singing, but the humor in his eyes took the sting off of it, "Not everyone can appreciate those lyrics," he made her chuckle.

"No I guess not," she brushed a strand of hair loose from her ponytail from her face. "Do you normally play the blues, or is jazz your preference?"

Jason seemed to consider for a moment, then shrugged, "As long as I like it, it doesn't really matter."

She felt a warm glow flow through her, as his answer seemed to mirror her own feelings about her art, "Good answer."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The last thing he should be doing is sitting across from Dr. Elizabeth Webber and wondering what it would take to convince her to come back to his apartment with him and allow him to take her to bed.

After a week trying to get his bearings in a job that Jason never thought he would have to take, all he had wanted tonight was a ride before the weather grew too bad to take his bike out, a drink to take the edge off and his music. A quick stop in Luke's to talk to Lenny had him offering to cover the midnight set for the old man, as he watched Lenny rubbing his hands and the drawn line of pain around his mouth.

It was Friday and Elizabeth was right, most people were out but late Friday nights at Luke's weren't normally busy, as most people ventured out to Club 101 or the Cellar for entertainment. He didn't think he would see anyone who knew him, but looking up from the piano and into Elizabeth's vivid blue eyes, he didn't regret his choice.

She should have looked like a kid, dressed the way she was, that ponytail pulled long dark hair away from her beautiful face. It was a marked difference from the curls he had somehow grown accustomed to. Her ivory face was free from the usual enhancements that he remembered his ex-wife always wore, but Elizabeth didn't need anything to augment her gentle beauty. He liked the smooth silk of her skin, her full rosy mouth that he wanted to taste. Linger over. He had to admit though, the paint splatters were kinda cute.

Okay, he must have had one beer too many, if he thought smears of paint were appealing.

Only it demonstrated what he was beginning to find so appealing about this woman. She dressed how she liked, she didn't try to impress people, the Seniors he taught music to seemed to love her and he knew she was talented given his response to the mural on the wall by her office.

He hadn't been surprised to find the visceral response to her painting was a mere shadow of his feelings about the woman herself.

A waitress brought over a large basket of fried fish and French fries, along with several rolls, setting them down. Elizabeth gave an appreciative thank you and took a napkin spreading it across her jeans. "You're going to eat all of that?" There was enough food there to feed at least four people but she just laughed at him.

"Luke's answer to fish and chips," she gestured to the food, "You're welcome to join me, though I will admit to having finished off one of these dinners on my own." She grinned sheepishly, as she picked up a piece of golden battered fish and bit in. The moan that escaped had the blood heading straight to his groin. The blissful expression on her face made him jealous of a damned piece of fish. "Not the same as Murdoch's in Cork, but it does the trick every time."

Thinking past the arousal spearing through him was almost impossible, but the familiar name surprised him, "You've been to Murdoch's?"

Surprised joy lit her face making her even more beautiful, "I take it you have as well?"

He had spent many nights in Murdoch's, listening to Brenna Murdoch's heartrending voice and enjoying a meal. It was one of the things he loved, traveling from place to place, taking in the land and the history. Ireland had been one of his first stops the year he left Port Charles after losing Michael. Through his grief and pain, there was something about Ireland that had soothed him. "Yeah."

"I loved it there. Aidan and Cullen, the brothers who run Murdoch's, they were so kind to me and Robin while we were there. We stayed in this great bed and breakfast called Sidhe Hall while we were there."

"Maeve's place," he had stayed there as well. The elderly woman had been determined to mother him and stuff him with the best meals he had ever tasted.

"Yes. She made the best brown bread, didn't she?"

"Baked it fresh every morning," he remembered fondly.

"Wow," Elizabeth blinked, exhaling a long sigh of what he hoped was pleasure, "It's really a small world isn't it? Imagine the both of us having visited County Cork Ireland, knowing the Murdoch brothers, and Maeve O'Toole, what are the chances?"

Given the fact that he was extremely tempted to take a very big risk with this woman and that he was drawn to her in a way that he'd never experienced before, the chances were pretty damned great actually.


End file.
